


Verbal

by polyommatusblues



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: :(, But not in the sexy way, F/M, many scenes involving logan's bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyommatusblues/pseuds/polyommatusblues
Summary: There are so many ways to speak, not all of them verbal.





	Verbal

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm a late bloomer... My roommate just introduced me to X-Men a few weeks ago for the sole purpose of watching Logan, but I fell in love in love with the whole series the first ten minutes. Soph had told me I'd be really into two of the characters, and as soon as Rogue got in Logan's truck I knew she was talking about them. Thus began my descent into Rogan hell.
> 
> Anyway, here's my contribution because all of y'all are so lovely and we desperately need more new content. But oh well, at least we have what we have.
> 
> Enjoy!

If Rogue knew anything about him (and she did, of course, even if a part of him didn’t live in her head), it was that Logan was horribly, righteously, awfully bad with words.

She learned how to listen anyway.

 

 

“Rogue, can you stay back a second?” Storm asked her after class. It had been a week since Logan left, an absence Rogue was still trying to get used to.

She walked up to Storm’s desk. “Mail came for you yesterday.” Storm handed her a letter envelope postmarked Maine. As hard as she tried to keep the grin off her face, Rogue failed miserably. She recognized that handwriting. She’d know that handwriting anywhere.

“Thank you.” Storm smiled softly at her, like she knew. She probably did.

“Get to class,” she said with a wave of her hand. Rogue slipped the letter carefully into her bag, fingers itching to open it.

Jubilee sat beside her in her next class, and she must have caught a glimpse of the letter when Rogue was getting out her books.

“Oooh, you got mail!” Jubilee said. Rogue flushed. “Is it from Logan?”

Rogue knitted her eyebrows together suspiciously. “How do you know about Logan?” He left two days before Jubilee got to the Mansion, and he certainly hadn’t been back yet. She and Jubilee shared a room, but they weren’t nearly close enough yet for her to be on a first name basis with Rogue’s not-so-secret crush.

Rogue shrugged. “I heard Scott and Professor X talking about him a few days ago in the hallway. I remember because Scott seemed kinda mad, and the Professor was trying to calm him down. They were talking about you, so I figured…”

Rogue blanched. “What were they saying?”

“It’s nothing bad! I forgot until literally right now. Scott said something about thinking Logan would stay for Jean, and the Professor was all like, no, if it was for anyone, it woulda been Rogue.”

“Oh. Well yeah, the letter’s from Logan. But Scott was probably right,” Rogue grumbled. Jubilee fixed her with a funny look.

“Eh, I don’t know about that, chica. The Professor seemed pretty convinced.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” But Rogue smiled, just a little.

Hank chose that time to clear his through loudly, so the two girls looked up in embarrassment. “Okay, now that everyone is present…”

Getting through her next two classes was excruciating, because she knew she couldn’t open the letter until she was alone. It was hard enough trying to keep a straight face with just the knowledge that Logan had written her, had taken time out of his trip to sit down and write to her, had thought about her somewhere up in Maine, in the cold.

Idly, Rogue wondered if he had sent letters to anyone else. She decided she didn’t want to know the answer to that. He had written _her_ , and that was enough.

Back in her room, she was tearing open the envelope before she even got the door shut. _Hey kid,_ she read, written on cheap motel stationary. She could practically hear his voice through the pen and paper, rough and deep and familiar.

_I hope the X-geeks are treating you okay down there. If they ain’t, you know good and well how to kick them on their asses, don’t forget that._

_I guess I should apologize for running out on you like that. I got some things I gotta figure out though and I guess there’s never gonna be a good time to do it, so why not now. You can hold your own down there, I know you can. You don’t need me for that._

_Just thought I’d check in. I know you got no way to reach me, but I’ll be back soon enough. Told you I would be, right?_

_Stay out of trouble._

_L_

Contentment filled Rogue’s body like a balloon. It was short, sweet, to the point—Logan to a tee. She pulled the dog tags out of her shirt and pressed them between her palms. He had made her that promise twice now. For some reason, she knew he’d keep it.

She pulled out a wooden box from underneath her bed that she’d bartered her toboggan for when she was on the road. It was small, the perfect size for any spare cash she’d manage to collect, and it reminded her of a box she left when she left her parents.

Folding the letter back into the envelope, she placed it in the box. It wasn’t money, but it was her first item worth keeping. She figured the box could serve that purpose as well, and slid it quietly back under her bed.

 

 

She heard the bike coming up the drive before anyone else.

She, Jubilee, Bobby, John, and Kitty were playing gin rummy upstairs, and she was just about to win the round when she heard gravel crunch outside. She’d blame it on some of his enhanced senses hanging around like his voice in her head, but she knew better. Her body was acutely aware of him at all times. Like now.

Part of her was a little embarrassed about that. She didn’t know if she had a right to be running down the Mansion stairs right then, ready to fling herself into his arms the second he stepped inside.

But then she remembered what he had given her right before he left, that he had written her more than once while he was gone. And well—that was something. Something more than nothing.

She dropped her hand and sprinted wordlessly out of the room towards the stairs.

When the two grand doors opened and he stepped through, one hand holding his duffle, she paused for just a second at the bottom of the stairs before beaming at him. “Logan,” she said, breathless. He dropped the bag and she lunged forward, tackling him in a hug.

“Hey, kid,” he breathed into her ear. She pulled away quickly and just stared at him, looking for any changes a year had made. Logan looked more or less the same, which didn’t really surprise her. He was staring back at her with a similar intensity, and she wondered if he was looking for changes in her, too.

“How was your trip?”

“Didn’t have to pick up any starving hitchhikers this time, so better than the last.” He was grinning at her, and she grinned right back. Soon after her classmates trailed in, following Rogue’s hasty leave.

She heard Jubilee’s over-exaggerated gasp behind her. “Oh. My. God. Is that _Logan_?”

Logan smirked at Rogue, and her ears burned like fire. _Dammit, Jubilee_ , she thought. Way to make it seem like he was all Rogue had been talking about for the past year… even if it was true. With nothing left to do, Rogue stepped aside and turned between Logan and her friends.

“Logan, meet Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby, and John.” His smirk faded, and Rogue could tell he was exhausted and not feeling the most social at the moment. (As if he was ever really social to begin with.) “Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby, John, meet Logan.”

“Oh, we know who you are!” Jubilee said, practically buzzing. Kitty, the more level-headed of the new recruits, stepped on her toe. “Ow—I just mean, you’re basically a legend around here. Half of us didn’t even think you existed!”

Logan’s face was a mixture of confusion and exasperation, but before Rogue could say anything, Kitty came to the rescue. She let out a loud sigh. “What Jubes is _trying_ to say is that you have a rep here for saving our little Rogue, and we wanna thank ya.”

Jubilee grinned toothily. “Ooh, that’s totally a better way of wording it. Thanks, chica.” Rogue rolled her eyes, and Logan leaned towards her. Bobby and John started to look uncomfortable, and Kitty tugged on Jubilee’s arm.

“Come on, let’s get back to the game. Now that Rogue’s out I think I actually have a shot at ginning first.” The boys hummed in agreement.

“How long have you been putting up with those?” he asked when they left. Rogue’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Too long. Jubes came shortly after you left, the rest a couple months after that.”

“Jesus. That one seems like a handful.”

She snickered. “Jubilee. Yeah, we share a room.”

Logan physically winced. “Jesus.”

At that time, Logan’s eyes darted to the stairs again, and Rogue’s stomach dropped at the look on his face. Of course, she knew about Logan’s thing for Jean before he had left, but a part of her actually believed that maybe that was something he’d let go while he was away. Apparently not, because he turned his attention immediately away from Rogue and fully to the woman currently slowly sauntering down the stairs, a total vision of maturity and grace.

To be completely honest, Rogue could never tell if it was actually love or just lust that drove Logan’s attraction to Jean. Of course, Rogue wanted to believe the latter, but sometimes she just wasn’t so sure. Like now: Jean said, “Hello, Logan,” and his face lit up completely, but Rogue swore there was a certain sharpness to his gaze, something too prideful, too predatory, to really be love. Rogue slipped quietly back up the other side of the stairs so she couldn’t dissect the look any further.

Because here’s the thing: Rogue was sure that the whole damn school knew how she felt about Logan. Well, probably not _exactly_ how she felt, because she didn’t even know _exactly_ how she felt, but she was pretty sure it was obvious that her feelings weren’t _exactly_ platonic.

But even in the coming days, Logan never called her on it. Never tried to avoid her—at least, not more than he tried to avoid people in general—and never brushed her off.

It was still difficult seeing him with Jean. Rogue didn’t think it would be enough for him to just _want_ her—she knew herself well enough to know how much that would hurt in the face of what she felt.

A few days later when Rogue passed by the kitchen, she saw Logan and Jean talking by the fridge. Logan was leaning against the counter laughing haughtily, a gleam in his eye. Something Rogue didn’t quit have a name for turned over in her stomach. Jean was laughing, and Rogue couldn’t stand the image that painted of them in a different world, a different timeline. Bitterly, she thought that the only person who couldn’t exist in that timeline was Scott.

Rogue’s hands tightened around the tags that fell on her chest as she walked away. She knew he’d seen them around her neck earlier, tucked into the front of her shirt, and he hadn’t asked for them back. Hadn’t even hinted at it. Maybe, she thought, he wanted her to have them. Maybe he wanted everyone to know she was his. His… something. Something more than nothing.

With a certain possessiveness that downright scared her, Rogue grinned. No matter how much he flirted with Jean, Logan would always choose Rogue. Two thin pieces of metal that clinked each against each other every time she moved proved that.

 

 

As time crept on, something shifted in their relationship. It was no grand event, no all-at-once change, just a bunch of little moments that built upon each other until one day she realized that something was different.

The shift began when they started spending more time together alone, about a week after his return. The first night night Rogue padded towards the teachers’ wing of the Mansion, Tostitos Scoops and a jar of salsa in hand, Scott stopped her.

“Rogue,” he said. “You know the students’ wing is on the other side, right?”

She was slightly annoyed, but not enough to fight him. “Yeah, I know. I’m going to see Logan.”

Scott pursed his lips. “Are you sure he’s in his room? He spends a lot of time downstairs.” Rogue didn’t know why Scott was being so shady, but she wasn’t backing down from this.

“I know that too. He told me to come by his room tonight, ‘cause there’s a hockey game on and he gets kinda into it”—that was an understatement, since last time in the rec room he’d been straight up yelling at the TV until the Professor came in and gave Logan a look—“so he sticks up here now.” Rogue held up the chips. “I’m in charge of food.”

Scott still looked dubious, and Rogue almost dared him to say something about her going to Logan’s room at quarter to nine being _inappropriate_. (She could tell he wanted to.) Instead, he just nodded at her and said, “Have fun watching the game.” Rogue smiled politely, continuing up the steps.

“So you’ll never guess who stopped me on the way up,” she said sarcastically, walking into his room.

“Don’t tell me Scooter tried to shoo you out of the teachers’ wing?”

“Sure enough.” She set the chips and salsa down on the middle of the bed and stretched out while he fiddled with the TV. Finally, he went to the other side of the bed and they both leaned back against the headboard, legs outstretched.

He had a string of commentary going throughout while Rogue munched contentedly. It was at a commercial break halfway through the game when she spoke. “You know, I haven’t touched someone in over a year without immediately pulling away. Even over clothes, people get nervous.” She paused. I think the last person to really touch me was you.”

It was totally out of the blue, unsolicited. She hadn’t even meant to say it. She blushed fiercely right after the words came out of her mouth.

Logan didn’t say anything for a while, didn’t move, continued to watch the game as if she had said nothing at all. But a few minutes later, he lifted his hand to her shoulder—“Logan…” she warned, but he ignored her—and put the lightest pressure on it, pulling her down until her head rested on his leg.

She gasped. The extended sensation of human contact, even through a layer or two of clothes, was overwhelming. Rogue couldn’t help the few tears that leaked from her eyes, and she couldn’t help breathing a little heavier, trying to reacquaint herself with the feeling of physical connection.

All of a sudden she felt Logan’s hand move up and down her arm, his other coming to rest over her hair on her head. It felt strangely like a skewed version of how he had held her at the top of the Statue of Liberty.

“I’ve told you before, kid. I ain’t afraid of you,” he said, voice barely a whisper, and a warm feeling stirred in Rogue at the knowledge that he was never this gentle with anyone else.

After that, Logan created reasons to touch her. Two hands on her shoulders when she was sitting at the kitchen bar and he came to stand behind her, a leg pressed against hers at dinner, his feet in her lap when they spent a day reading in the rec room.

Sometimes Rogue caught the others giving them looks. She felt Jean’s eyes on her one time in particular, when they and a few of the others had gathered around the rec room TV for movie night. Logan sat on the couch with Rogue on the floor at his feet, his hand absently playing with her hair. Rogue looked up to the armchair where Jean was sitting and found a partly-confused, partly-conflicted expression on the older woman’s face. Maybe she was jealous, because Logan had been spending less time with her and more time with Rogue. Maybe she was just sad, because Scott was in an armchair beside her, neither of them touching.

No one ever said anything about her and Logan, which was good because she was scared that saying something about it would make him stop. Scott didn’t stop her again on her way to Logan’s room, either, just greeted her when she walked by.

She didn’t know if Logan didn’t catch the weird looks they got or if he just didn’t care, but his hands still found her whenever they could. Even though it still wasn’t skin-on-skin, it was something. It was as much as he could give her, she knew that. If he could give her more, he would in a second. She knew that too.

 

 

He left again. Of course, three months later, the day after she walked across the stage in the Mansion’s back lawn, he left again.

Rogue knew not to take it personally, but damn if he wasn’t the thing that kept her sane most of the time. (Damn if he didn’t know that, too.)

Logan wasn’t at the ceremony—at least, Rogue didn’t think he was. She didn’t blame him, really—it was just her, Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby, and John graduating, anyway. Nothing big or special. It wasn’t until she got up to accept her diploma that she saw him standing in the back, behind all the chairs and tables they set up for the audience.

They made eye contact, and she could tell he was trying not to smile too wide. She beamed back at him, never looking away until she turned to Xavier to receive her diploma. When she looked for him again, he was gone.

After the ceremony, the teachers had set up food and drinks in the lawn for everyone to celebrate together. Rogue stayed for long enough to get clapped on the back and congratulated a couple dozen times, then she quietly slipped away.

She could hear the TV on when she crept up to his room. Rogue knocked and held her breath when he opened the door. He gave her the same smile she had seen hiding in the back during the ceremony and scooped her into his arms immediately. The motion was so sudden, so unexpected, that it took her a second to realize he was hugging her. The great Wolverine, vicious as an animal and feared by all, was _hugging_ her. Arms-around-her-waist, nose-in-her-hair, body-pressed-to-hers _hugging_.

The moment lasted only a second before he pulled back, arms still at her waist, and pressed his lips to her hairline. Rogue’s dress was long-sleeve, and she had on her usual gloves and scarf, but that didn’t stop her from tensing up at him being so close, a breadth away from her uncovered forehead.

“Logan—” she said, but he laughed. She felt his breath on the top of her head.

“It’s a special occasion, kid,” he said. “I’ll take the chance right now.”

They heard the distant sound of the others coming in from outside, so Rogue followed him into the room and closed the door behind her. She barely remembered the first time she spent a lazy night in Logan’s room, the two of them stretched out on the bed; it was just natural.

Some action show was playing on the TV, and Logan turned the volume down as Rogue went towards the bed.

Logan grumbled. “It’s _CSI: Miami_ again. Jesus, there have to be eight hundred different episodes of this fuckin’ show.” Rogue laughed, reclining against the headboard. As much as he talked about not staying in one place too long, he had already, however unintentionally, made this room feel like home.

He had a stack of DVDs on a bookshelf in the corner; papers (likely some of her old homework) littered his desk. There was an open book on his bedside table, his current read: _East of Eden_ by John Steinbeck. By now, she was familiar enough with Logan to not be surprised at this. He gave the image of a gruff bastard only good for fighting, but Rogue knew that was far from the truth.

Logan sat down on the bed and laid back beside her, pulling off her scarf gingerly. He was wearing long sleeves, she realized, so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him easily, snuggling into his side.

Rogue was content with him breathing under her for as long as he’d let it stretch out, so it was a while before either spoke.

“Well,” Logan said, breaking the silence. Onscreen, the redheaded man shot someone, and the guy went down like a sack of rocks. Rogue wasn’t really paying attention. Neither was he, it seemed. “Looks like I’m finally done with writing your stupid English papers like I have been for the past semester.” Rogue blushed. She hadn’t written a single thing for Scott’s American literature class since Logan had returned. “How are you gonna celebrate?”

“Will you take me to a bar?” she asked. He laughed.

“Hell no, no way I’m facing the wrath of Scooter when we’d get back, even if I could take him down in two seconds.”

Rogue could feel him looping her hair around his fingers, smoothening the strands. If she sighed contentedly and let the tension drain from her shoulders, he didn’t say anything about it. Suddenly, her entire body grew heavy with exhaustion.

She yawned and felt Logan chuckle under her. “Tired, kid?” he asked. She nodded. “Come on then, let’s get you to bed.”

“Just let me sleep here…” she whined.

“Nope. When I’ve still got the light on at 3 a.m. and you’re tossin’ and turnin’, you’ll just be mad.” Logan pushed her up off his chest, and she went limp in his arms. “Can’t let me do all the work here,” he said.

“Sure I can.” She grinned at him, eyelids struggling to stay open.

Logan didn’t talk back, just pulled her to her feet and hoisted her into his arms. It was probably a testament to her tiredness that she didn’t protest.

Music and laughter floated up from downstairs, everyone else still celebrating. With his foot, Logan pushed open the door to the room she shared with Jubilee and deposited Rogue on her bed.

“Get changed and go to sleep, kid.” His voice stayed low even though they were still alone. She smiled up at him.

“You’re a good man, Logan,” she said. Before he could stop it, his jaw hinged open, and Rogue saw him (almost literally) force his face back into a neutral expression. He grumbled something she couldn’t understand, pressed his hand to the hair at her forehead, and walked out.

The next morning, Rogue heard a knock at her door. She opened it to find him standing there, duffle bag in hand.

She tried not to let her face fall. The sight of him and that bag took the wind out of her for a split second, because she didn’t know it was gonna be so soon. Had he stayed just until she graduated? Did he think she didn’t need him anymore?

 _I still need you_ , Rogue’s entire being screamed. _I’ll always need you. Don’t leave. Stay. I need you to stay._

Gathering herself, she stepped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind her, careful not to wake Jubilee. They walked down to the foyer in silence, stopping to face each other in front of the Mansion doors. The silence hung heavy between them. Rogue missed him already.

“Take care of yourself, kid,” was all he said before turning his back on her. She held her tears, just in case he turned around again. But he just threw his bag over his shoulder and started out through the doors.

It took Rogue all of two minutes to run after him, desperate for the last word.

“Hey, Logan!” she called after him, bounding down the steps of the Mansion until she reached where he was standing next to the bike, pack strapped on tight. “Come back?” She didn’t say _to me_ but they both heard it, deafening in its absence.

In lieu of an answer, Logan grinned and took a step towards her. It was all Rogue could do to not get on her knees, begging him to stay.

But then suddenly he was leaning down, his face angled to her left side. Rogue snapped her head towards him and started to give a warning, but then his lips met hers and— _wait, what?_

Both pulled back immediately. Belatedly, Rogue realized he had meant to kiss her cheek. Then, wide-eyed and surprised but sure, definitely sure, Logan placed a hand over the scarf around her neck and kissed her again—unmistakably, _intentionally_ on the lips. It was quick enough that she didn’t feel the pull and more chaste than she thought was possible for him.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he stepped back, giving her a smile. He knocked the kickstand up, and cranked the bike. As confused as she was about everything else, she knew that smile was genuine.

“Yeah, darlin’,” he said. “I’ll come back.”

 

 

This time Logan was gone, things were different. She got the occasional letter, once every two or three weeks—but he called. Every week, he called. And when someone else would pick up the landline in the kitchen, they would always yell for her.

Today Scott picked it up while a bunch of them were watching TV in the living room. “Hey Rogue,” he said from the kitchen. “Phone’s for you!”

She tried not to get too giddy every time, especially when the others were around. But it was just so damn good to hear from him—and he never asked to speak to anyone else. Sometimes if Jean happened to pick it up, Rogue knew she’d wait a little while before handing over the phone. But Logan didn’t call for Jean.

(Scott, on the other hand, barely even said hello before getting Rogue. The less time he had to listen to Logan breathing on the other end of the line the better, she guessed.)

Rogue took the phone from Scott and mouthed a thank you. He smiled and retreated to the living room, and Rogue hopped up on the counter to sit.

“Hey you,” she said, smiling. “How’s life?”

He hummed. She could feel the vibration of the phone on her ear.

“Just pulled into this godawful little town called, I shit you not, Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.”

Rogue curled the phone cord around her finger and snorted. “You’re shitting me.”

“Kid, what did I just say?”

“Okay, okay, fine. What took ya that far South?”

“Same thing that took me that far North last year.” He didn’t elaborate. She figured that was about as much info on that particular topic that she was gonna get out of him, anyway.

“Where else have you been?”

“Oh what, you mean since I called you six days ago?”

“Shut up, you know that’s what I mean. You been on the road this whole time?”

“Kinda. Went from Tennessee to Baton Rouge, then cut straight across Texas to get here.”

Rogue felt a little pang in her chest when she realized he must have driven through Mississippi at some point. That’s one place she didn’t like to think about very much—not because she hated it, but because she missed it. Because she didn’t know how to go back.

Ever perceptive, even when he could just hear a change in her breathing, Logan spoke again. “I made it to Louisiana in record time. Barely stopped to piss the whole way.”

“Can we go sometime?” she blurted. And oh _god_ , that wasn’t supposed to… but she figured now she kinda had to finish the thought. “Not to—uh—see my parents or anything, I don’t really think they'd— but it’d be nice to, you know. There’s more things there than just them.”

“Okay, kid,” he said. Rogue could swear she heard the start of a chuckle. “You can take me to that diner you said’s got the best grits in the whole country, whatever the hell ‘grits’ are.”

“Mike’s? I told you about that? And grits are a staple breakfast food. You make them out of corn, I think.”

“Yeah well, guess I’ll havta try ‘em.”

Rogue was a little thrown. He had never once mentioned them hitting the road together again, much less setting out for somewhere from her past. It wasn’t that she thought he didn’t care, not exactly. But still.

“So how’s training going?” he asked. She laughed.

“Harder than class. Better than reading _Les Mis_ though.”

“The book wasn’t that bad, if you’d actually read it.”

“Sparknotes told me enough.” She grinned. “I’ll just wait for them to make a movie. Jean Valjean better be played by someone hot.”

Logan chuffed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s so realistic for a starving hobo ex-con in 19th century France to look like Brad Pitt.”

“Hey, I never said—”

“Yeah yeah, tell it to the judge. So what else’s been going on?”

She twirled the phone cord around her finger. “Um, let’s see… Well, we got some new students last week. Like fifteen I think? All startin’ in sixth grade. Only one or two are real skittish, far as I can tell.”

“Better I’m gone, with all those rugrats.”

“Oh hush, you better be civil when you get back here. What else—Kitty and Bobby are dating. They’re kinda cute, I guess?”

“Oh yeah, bet they’re fuckin’ adorable.”

“Fine, you’re right. I just leave the room when they walk in.” Rogue racked her brain. “Jubes took me down hard last week, so I’ve been doubling up on training.”

“Atta girl.”

“Oh, and there’s this mission next week. It’s gonna be simple, just scoping out an abandoned mutant rights headquarters upstate, so Scott said he’d take a few of the ones who just graduated along for some training in the field.”

“No,” Logan said sharply, cutting her off.

Rogue started. “‘scuse me?”

“No. Scott doesn’t get to take you out first. That’s my job.”

“Logan,” she said, voice growing hard. “I’m not going to stay in while everyone else is puttin’ their training to work. You’re not here.”

“I will be.”

“Yeah, when?”

“Soon.” She could practically feel him gritting his teeth. “You better wait for me, Marie. You’re mine.” There was a pause. “ _Marie._ Tell me.”

Rogue immediately sobered, her anger draining. It hit her—this wasn’t Logan, not entirely. This was coming from the Wolverine.

His voice was determined, borderline territorial—but softer than she had ever heard it before. She held back her questions, her confusion, too scared that if she asked, he’d get spooked and never talk to her like this again. Instead, she just agreed.

“Yeah, okay, Logan. Yours.”

It was the closest they ever came to talking about the strange new thing developing between them. Rogue knew she wasn’t going crazy—there was something there. Something that hadn’t been there when she was just a kid waiting on letters from a man she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever see again.

But now, no matter how many times they talked, never once did they bring up what happened right before he left. Rogue thought maybe he’d forgotten about it, and she didn’t want to be the one to make things awkward.

Sometimes, though, she would touch her lips, lips that had known only one harmless kiss, and want.

 

 

Logan was gone seven months. Rogue didn’t care how many times he called—she missed him like a phantom limb every single day. She wondered if he knew that, if a part of him felt out of place. She wondered if he missed her.

A part of her was angry at him for being gone so long. Where was he when she started official, not-for-class, preparing-to-be-a-team-member training? When she was getting knocked on her ass by Scott every day when she should have been getting knocked on her ass by _him_?

She had let a lot of this anger dissipate by the time he returned. Then, she was more or less just happy to have him home. So his first night back at the Mansion, she waited for him. 

Rogue had spent a lot of time in his room while he was away, not that she would tell anybody. Logan hadn’t locked it before he left, so she figured it was fair game. So what if she wanted to sleep in his bed every once in a while clutching his dog tags, wrapped in sheets that still smelled like him when everywhere else, that scent was lost.

(And so what if “once in a while” happened to be a few times every week.)

When he got back, Logan had been pretty scarce for the rest of the day. Rogue knew he was probably doing recon with the Professor, filling him in on new intel even though this was technically Logan’s personal project. But Rogue had been the first to greet him when he came in. She held onto the fact that hers was the last face he saw before leaving and the first when he returned.

Later, Rogue showered, brushed her teeth, and put on her pajamas and her thinnest pair of gloves. Kitty and Jubilee had still been up when she slipped out of their shared room. She knew that they knew where she was going, but she didn’t care. Logan was always there, in her mind; Rogue had woken them up with his nightmares enough times that they no longer questioned her and Logan’s bond.

In his room, Rogue slipped under the sheets, on the side of the bed he had always left for her. She could hear rain hitting heavy on the window, lulling her. As she waited, 11 turned to 12, 12 to 1, and she spent way too much energy trying to stay awake.

When she did wake up, it was to fingers stroking her face. Her heart stopped before she realized it was Logan, and he was touching her through the thin curtain of her hair.

“You oughta know better than to sneak up on a man like that, kid,” he said. “Mighta been spooked, if I hadn’t been expecting you.”

She smiled at the soft look on his face. He was sitting beside her on his side of the bed, still in his day clothes and looking ready to pass out.

“I wanted to see you,” Rogue said, closing her eyes again. He didn’t comment on the fact that she had already seen him earlier in the day, and she was grateful. “Missed you.”

He swiped his thumb across her cheekbone, barely there. “Me too. It was too long again, I know.”

“’s okay. You came back.”

“Always will.” Taking a heavy breath, Logan brushed Rogue’s hair back from her face and stood. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Need anything?”

“I’m good. Gonna stay here, if that’s okay.” She could feel herself again already drifting back off.

Logan huffed out a laugh. “Well I figured that.” And then he was gone.

Some odd hours later, Rogue woke to the sound of a branch rapping on the bedroom window. She was wrapped in something heavy and warm, a solid weight against her back, a familiar, heady scent surrounding her. It was still dark outside, still storming. She felt calm.

When her thoughts finally clicked into place, she scrambled away quickly. “Oh you stupid, stupid man!” she said. Logan shot up, immediately awake.

“Rogue?” He turned to her, reaching out. She flinched away.

“No! Logan, Jesus—why the hell did you let me sleep here?”

He chuffed, cooling off from his knee-jerk panic. “I wasn’t gonna wake you up. What’s got you so proud?”

“You could have been hurt, you idiot! What if I had moved in my sleep? What if your arms had touched my face, or my pants leg rolled up, or—” Rogue cut off sharply, close to tears. This was the first time she had woken up with anyone, and it was with _Logan_ , no less. She had pictured waking up with him a thousand times, but in her dreams her skin was never poison.

“Marie,” he said seriously, gripping her arms through her sleeves. Other than Logan over the phone, it was the first time someone had called her by that name in years. It jarred something in her. “ _Marie_. It’s okay, baby. I didn’t.”

“But you could have—”

“But I _didn’t_. I would have felt it. I would have woken up.”

Slowly, she started to calm down as her breathing slowed. They stayed like that for a little while, Logan clutching her arms, before his hands slid down to hold her own. Rogue ached to touch him without her gloves. She ached for a lot of things these days. While some of them came true, most did not.

“You let me sleep here?” she asked.

“Like I said. Didn’t wanna wake you up. Now either lie back down or go to your own room to brood. It’s four in the fuckin’ morning and this is the first dreamless night I’ve had in a while.” He sunk back down in the covers as he said this, loosening his grip on her hands but not releasing them. He knew which choice she would make—he always did.

Rogue lied back down as well, their joined hands resting in between them. Slowly, Logan brought her hands to his chest and scooted closer to her, closer until he could wrap an arm around her back in a position similar to the one they had woken up in.

She took a sharp breath. “Logan…” His arms tightened around her.

“I’m fine. Skin’s all covered. Unless you want me to move?” There wasn’t much seriousness in his voice. She didn’t say anything, knew he knew the answer anyway.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. In a few short minutes, she felt his breathing level out.

 

 

It started out innocently enough. She slept in his bed while he was gone and the first night he was home (and he had called it home, one time—she clung to this tightly).

For weeks after that she still slept in his bed sometimes, when fear woke her up in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let her go. He wore pants and she wore long sleeves and they both wore gloves, just in case. It was worth it to have him hold her, and she was certain she wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

She had his dreams. She didn’t know what kind of awareness he had of her, but it had to be something. They were always in sync: He was always sitting up, stricken, waiting for her when she tip-toed into his room and turned the knob to shut the door as quietly as she could.

It was because of that, because one morning she made the mistake of sleeping too late and not returning to her bedroom until everyone was already awake, that Rogue found herself on the wrong end of one of Jubilee’s “spill sessions.”

Walking into her bedroom that morning was like walking into an ambush. Jubilee was at her vanity putting on makeup, and when Rogue walked in, the first thing Jubilee said was, “Okay, _spill_.”

Rogue sighed. “Nothing to spill, Jubes.”

“My ass there isn’t!” If it was anyone else, Rogue would take her tone as confrontational—but this was Jubilee, and if there was anything Rogue knew about her it was that Jubilee was just nosier than a damned cat. Rogue laughed.

“Chica. You slept there. You _sleep_ there. Multiple times a week.” Rogue opened her mouth to protest. “Uh-uh, don’t deny it, I know when you creep outta here! If you wanna tell me you’re _not_ banging Wolvie, okay, I believe you. But there’s gotta be a reason the two of you are bed-buddies every other night.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

Jubilee powdered her cheeks with blush. “It’s something for you. Your automatic move when a nightmare wakes you up is to go to his room. I know it is. And he’s waiting for you, isn’t he?”

“It’s not like that,” she rushed to say, terrified Jubilee really was getting the wrong idea about them. It wasn’t like that. No matter how much she may have wanted it to be like that, it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t do her or Logan any good for people to be thinking it was.

“I’ve just got so much of him living in me, Jubes,” she said softly. “The ‘him’ in my head gets quiet when I’m around him in real life.”

Rogue looked desperately at the floor, wishing this conversation could just be over already.

“You know I’m jealous of you,” Jubilee said evenly, without malice. “The two of you. You have something really special.”

Rogue’s knee-jerk reaction was to deny it, but she realized that Jubilee wasn’t talking about a physical level. She was talking about something deeper.

“We’re friends. He promised to protect me. That’s all.”

A pause stretched between them. Jubilee tilted her face up to start on her mascara.

“How many people have you touched?” she asked suddenly. She made eye contact with Rogue through the mirror.

“Three,” Rogue answered automatically, the number burned into her brain. Up there with so many memories not her own.

“And how many people have you touched twice?”

Rogue paused, still reeling from the previous conversation. _Was she talking about the same thing?_

Of course, Jubilee didn’t need an answer to this question. No one in the damned Mansion needed an answer to that. Everyone knew. And Rogue would had to have been an idiot to think that meant nothing in terms of her and Logan’s bond.

_Well, shit._

Rogue quirked an eyebrow at Jubilee. “Okay, what’re you saying?” At that, Jubilee spun around, her back now to the vanity. Only one eye was done up. She put on her best serious face, mascara wand still in her hand.

“What I’m _saying_ is that maybe it’s just one of those things.” Jubilee pursed her lips. “You know, like fate or something. Like maybe you were made for each other. Cliché aside.”

“It’s not like—”

“Bullshit, babe. You know good and well no one is buying that. Not from you and not from him.”

Jubilee looked dead serious. Of course Rogue knew that there was something between her and Logan that was a little stronger than a friendship, but she’d never let herself think of it in these kinda terms before. “Fate” wasn’t in her vocabulary. She’d given up on fate a long time ago.

Jubilee hummed. “I know I wasn’t here yet, but the older ones still talk about what happened the night you got those badass white streaks in your hair,” she said. Then her voice got soft. “I know what he did for you. It’s like a legend around here. I’ve heard the story a million times. That’s no small feat, chica, him saving you like that. He knew exactly what was gonna happen second time around, and he did it anyway. It’s gotta mean something more.”

Rogue’s mind reeled with memories of her and Logan, events that couldn’t have happened had it been anyone else. She’d be dead in the Statue of Liberty’s torch without him. Hell, she’d be dead on the side of the road without him. No one else would have picked up a girl like her and asked for nothing in return. No one else would have touched the untouchable girl twice.

“I don’t know,” Rogue said, but even she could hear the doubt in her voice. Jubilee gave her a little smile.

“Just think about it. And be glad I didn’t use the word ‘soulmates,’” she said. Rogue rolled her eyes. “Next time I catch him throwing those longing glances your way, I’m gonna pinch you on your little scarf-covered neck, okay?”

“Why my neck?”

“Seems like a sensitive place. Gotta make an impact, you know.”

“You’re crazy, Jubes. Okay.”

Jubilee gave Rogue a wink and turned back to her vanity mirror.

Already exhausted, Rogue decided this would be the perfect day to spend on the couch in the rec room with some hot chocolate and the inevitable _CSI: Miami_ marathon some network was running. She changed into a pair of clean leggings and brushed her teeth.

(What Jubilee would never know was that she actually had her own toothbrush in Logan’s bathroom—but if anyone asked, he used it to clean between the tiles. Like Logan would ever _clean_.)

“I’ll be downstairs,” she said on her way out.

“Your bed misses you!” Jubilee called, and Rogue laughed.

 

 

There are so many ways to speak, not all of them verbal.

 

 

The way it (finally) happened (for real) was not the way she imagined. Not at all.

Rogue knew the Logan in her head as intimately as she knew the actual man. This meant that she knew the kind of relationships he was accustomed to—short-lived romances, rough sex, passion followed almost immediately by apathy.

It wasn’t like she thought she was another one of his faceless girls. She just never let herself believe that if this were to happen at all, he would change for her. Because of her.

It was two in the morning, sky above them filled with stars. Everyone who wasn’t asleep gathered on the back lawn to watch the meteor shower. Rogue dragged him out of bed because _You’ll be awake anyway, dumbass_.

The Mansion was far enough away from the city that the stars spread out above them shined brilliantly. Over half the school spread out towels and blankets to settle in.

Rogue threw a picnic blanket down on the outside of the group. Kitty, Jubilee, and Bobby were sharing a blanket a little ways away, but Rogue just sat down beside Logan.

It was his second night home since the last time he left. Between trips, he had progressively started spending less time lusting after Jean and more time hanging out with Rogue, and she took solace in that. In face, she didn’t know if he’d said more than two words to Jean this time since getting back. Rogue didn’t really know when he would’ve had time, because he’d spent so much just with her.

For the last trip he had only been gone a week, barely long enough to warrant a call to her, but still. It was different when he was gone, a different she didn’t much like.

When the shower officially started—one shooting star every five minutes, at least—she acted on impulse and grabbed his hand.

“I used to watch these back home all the time. Our house was out in the middle of nowhere, so you could see everything so clear,” she whispered. Logan rolled his eyes but she could feel him smiling, and he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Was it always in the middle of the fuckin’ night?”

She laughed. “Most of the time, yeah. It was always worth it though.”

A huge meteor passed overhead, prompting more than a few gasps from the younger kids. Rogue swore she heard a little noise of wonder from the Professor as well.

“Don’t tell me you don’t think that’s worth seeing,” she said. Logan huffed out a laugh.

“Only ‘cause I’m with you, darlin’.”

It was only half-sarcastic, Rogue knew. She smiled. Logan’s hand tightened around hers.

They watched the sky in silence for a while, listening to crickets over the sound of indistinct chatter from the rest of the group. She didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but every time a star fell, Logan swiped his thumb over the back of her hand.

She turned her body so her back was pressed to his side, leaning against him. Oh, how she missed this when he was gone, the solid, safe weight of him. He exhaled loudly. “Rogue…” he said, as if her name was a warning.

“When are you leaving again?”

She felt, more than heard, him sigh. He paused. “I don’t know.”

“Soon?”

Another pause. Stupidly, tears began to bud in her eyes.

“I won’t be gone long.”

“Why won’t you take me with you?” She pulled away to sit up and look at him, releasing his hand. “Logan, please.”

He closed his eyes. “I can’t, baby. The places I’m going—they’re not nice places.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” Another huge star fell. She tilted her face up to watch. “God, Logan, do you know how much I missed you?”

He growled. “Of course I fucking do.” Her head snapped towards him.

Logan’s face was pure, naked emotion, more than Rogue had ever seen displayed from him. He looked almost… angry. She longed to touch him right then, to know exactly what was going through his mind.

“You don’t think I missed you every day?” he asked. “That I counted down the days till I could come back here and see you? You think I drove all those miles without wishing you were there?”

Rogue didn’t know what to say. Logan had never shown this much emotion with her before, especially not _about_ her.

“Fuck, Marie, I—” He broke off, visibly deflating. “Little half-memories sometimes come back to me when I pass through an area,” he said, “and I just… I gotta keep trying to piece ‘em together.”

“Okay, I get it, you’ve got a sob story,” she said, a little unkindly. Rogue swore she saw him flush. “But fuck that. If you miss me so much, _take me with you_.” Rogue accentuated this by clenching her fists in the blanket. “You called me yours. I’m supposed to be yours.”

Logan’s expression was a cross between warning and predatory. “You are.”

“Then treat me like it!” She spoke this loud, too loud for how many people were around. No one turned to them, thankfully, but she lowered her voice. “Or have I been so naïve to think you felt something for me?”

“Shut _up_ , Marie,” he blurted out. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” As soon as it was out of his mouth, he blanched. Rogue had never— _ever_ —seen him so unguarded. Logan didn’t just say things like that. Hell, she’d been almost certain until about two minutes ago that Logan didn’t even _feel_ things like that.

And okay, that caught her off guard.

“Come on,” he said, and before she could process what was happening, Logan had her on her feet. He pulled her away from the back lawn and towards the woods. She knew where they were going because it was a spot he had shown her before: A giant tree near the pond had fallen at some point, leaving a bench that hung partly over the water.

Rogue sat down on the tree trunk and he came to sit beside her, straddling the trunk with his back to the water.

“Marie,” he said. “Do you trust me?” It was a stupid question, but she answered anyway.

“Yes.”

He cupped her face in his bare hands, positioning her hair as a layer between. “Good,” he said, and leaned in.

No matter how many times he told her he wasn’t afraid of her skin, Rogue still got nervous every time he got so near. Her knee-jerk instinct now was still to flinch away, but then he was leaning down and his face was closer to her own than it had ever been and everything ceased to exist save their breathing, now synchronized. Rogue felt Logan’s lips on hers and it was gentle, gentler than she could have ever imagined.

It took her a solid ten seconds to respond, long enough that he had to draw away when the pull came and capture her lips again. Then he just kept his lips pressed to her lips until she caught up, and their mouths slid together.

Logan kissed her like he never wanted to stop kissing her, like he could kiss her for the rest of his life and be perfectly content. They found out pretty quickly that eight seconds seemed to be the golden time before the pull started, so he kissed her at intervals and she opened her mouth for him at every one. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in. She threw a leg over the trunk so she too was straddling it, then scooted until she was practically in his lap, legs hooked behind his thighs.

After a minute of this, Rogue pulled back, just a little. Her mind reeled. “The last time you left,” she whispered, breathless. “That day. Do you remember?”

“Of course,” he said, laughing against her lips before kissing her again. They both pressed close, bodies touching at every possible point. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Kiss. “Wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Their mouths moved together languidly, and for eight seconds at a time, Rogue forgot about her mutation. Logan’s hand came down to cup her ass, pulling her further onto his lap. She tightened her legs around him, her arms wound around his neck.

She pulled her head back for a second time. “This mean you’re mine?” Logan kissed her again, deep and fierce.

“Always been yours, kid.”

“How long you gonna call me kid for, huh?” she asked playfully, scooting back off his lap to sit on the trunk.

“Rest of your life, probably,” he replied, grinning. Rogue stilled, her smile growing hesitantly brighter.

“You expect to know me that long?”

Logan’s features softened, and _god_ , how had she gone nineteen years without someone looking at her like that? His large hand cupped her waist and he pulled her towards him again, moving in close to nuzzle her hair.

“I’m yours. I expect to know you for the rest of both our lives.”

He hadn’t said the the exact thing he meant, she could tell. But then he started pressing open-mouthed kisses into her face and neck—never once showing any indication of hesitation—and that spoke so much by itself.

He couldn’t say it, not yet.

She heard it anyway.


End file.
